


you have set your heart on haunting me forever from the start

by styliamson



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Fluff, Pining, Sexual Tension, harry is a whiny melodramatic bitch, harry likes to flirt almost as much as louis, haunted house au, no one knows why niall is there, perrie is in it for literally two seconds so dont worry about it, this is really just a lot of fluff enjoy, zayn and liam are an old married couple
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-10-20
Updated: 2014-10-20
Packaged: 2018-02-21 21:18:00
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,966
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2482805
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/styliamson/pseuds/styliamson
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>harry hates halloween and louis works at a haunted house so maybe he doesnt end up hating it so much after all.</p>
            </blockquote>





	you have set your heart on haunting me forever from the start

**Author's Note:**

> hello this is based off that prompt i dont know how to link it but you should know what im talking about 
> 
> title from nearly witches by panic! at the disco

"There's _no_ way."

"Come on, we both know you love Halloween."

"No, actually, we both know I _hate_ Halloween."

"You’re just saying that! Who doesn't love a haunted house?"

" _Me_!"

"Harry."

"Liam."

Liam glares at him for approximately ten more seconds, eyes steely and unwavering. Harry glowers right back with what he hopes is strong defiance, but is probably more like rebellious toddler. Nevertheless, Harry will not give in. Eventually Liam sighs in defeat and stands up.

"I'm getting Zayn.” Is all he says, and then he’s out of the living room and walking straight into Zayn’s room. Harry can hear their bickering muffled through the thin walls of the flat, and then a few loud smacks of lips, that although he’s definitely heard worse from them he still really didn’t need to hear, and there’s Zayn, stomping into the living room looking like it’s too early to be awake even though it’s already two in the afternoon.

Harry groans because Zayn is _always_ more convincing than Liam, especially when he’s tired and irritable.

"Harry."

"Zayn."

"Why don't you want to go to the haunted house?" He asks sternly. Harry cannot refrain from an eye roll, because, _honestly_. They’ve asked him this _every single year_ for the past ten years, and _every single year_ he gives them the same answer.

"I hate haunted houses!" Harry yells. Loudness makes things more convincing, he read it in a book once.

Zayn just rolls his eyes, clearly not impressed with the excuse.

"Last time I checked, you've never actually _been_ to one." Zayn retorts, and, well. He does have a valid point.

It’s not because he’s scared or anything, no, definitely not. He’s not afraid of the haunted house itself; he knows it’s not actually haunted, he knows the workers won’t hurt him and he knows that he, logically, has nothing to fear. He’s just scared of _being_ scared. And it’s not his fault he scares too easily, jumping whenever the wind makes the windows creak or the floorboards whine under their footsteps. Zayn won’t even watch scary movies with him anymore, not after he screamed so loud at Insidious that the neighbors almost called the police and the couch got dangerously close to being covered in piss. So, really, he would just rather _not_ end up making an utter fool of himself in public when he involuntarily screams louder than any of the actual children or soils himself more than the kids in diapers. Those things just don’t fit into his autumn agenda.

"Then why break the streak now? Like you always say, _go big or go home_.” He reasons, but Zayn still looks unamused and now slightly confused.

"That doesn't even make any – go big or go home doesn’t even _apply_ –“ he cuts himself off, shaking his head exasperatedly like he’s talking to a five year old. “Okay, _okay._ Fine. We won't go." He relents, before leaving with a lost Liam trailing on his heels.

Harry _always_ wins.

                                                                                                ==

Harry _never_ wins.

Because here he is, blindfold pushed up into his hair, standing outside the scariest haunted house in town with his two ( _now ex_ ) best friends by his side, each gripping one of his biceps tightly to keep him from bolting. Which he would definitely be doing right now if he hadn’t skipped out on all of the gym sessions Liam invited him to early in the month in favor of watching _Say Yes to the Dress_. At least he knows what a sweetheart neckline is, which unfortunately will not help him in this situation.

"Why," he groans, rolling his head to the side to face Zayn.

"This'll be good for you, I guarantee," Zayn assures, and Harry just groans again and attempts for a last time to break free of their hold. It doesn't work, obviously, and he's being guided to the front door of the house. He has the worst friends.

He uses his last resort, and it’s desperate; it’s really, _really_ desperate but he doesn’t have any other options at this point.

“I’ll suck your cock again, Liam.” He offers, and Liam splutters, loosening his grip on Harry slightly, but it’s enough for Harry to slip his arm from its hold. He takes a step to sprint right out of there, but Zayn still has his other arm tightly and he tugs Harry back harshly. Harry stumbles, and almost falls over but there’s Liam, grabbing his other arm. Liam is shaking his head disappointedly and Harry is trapped yet again.

“Thought that would work, did you?” Zayn laughs, and they’re back to tugging Harry to the entrance. It’s almost empty, the queue short with only six people. They’re almost to the front of the line and Harry tries again to get them to let go and _for god’s sake,_ he is taller than both of them but he still can’t get away.

Liam is laughing softly, saying, “Mate, just let it go. We’re almost in anyway,” and he’s right, they’re the next ones. Harry swallows loudly, but he nods, accepting his fate.

“Okay, fine. I won’t run, just let me go.” He says, and they know him well enough to know he’s given up so they release him. He rubs his now sore biceps, before slapping both Zayn and Liam upside the head.

“I hate you both,” he says bitterly as they reach the entering threshold. Liam chuckles and Zayn just ruffles his hair fondly before settling the hand on his shoulder.

“Nah, you love us.”

Harry’s too proud to admit that it’s true, so he turns his shoulder and takes a step into the house, looking around and inspecting it carefully. It looks, unsurprisingly, like a typical haunted house. There are fake spider webs lining the walls and real dust lining old bookshelves pressed into the corner of the room. The room is dimly lit, wooden planks nailed over the windows so only thin streams of light beam through, illuminating the dust drifting through the room. There are carved pumpkins lining the window sills, some intricate and frightening, others looking like they were carved by a seven-year-old. Possibly an eight-year-old, but Harry's not an expert on these things.

He turns back to drag Liam and Zayn through the house because they forced him in here and he’s _not_ going through it alone, only to be met with white, pale skin and dark eyes covered in huge black circles. He leaps back, and, just as he suspected he would, screams at the top of his lungs.

It’s fucking embarrassing, is what it is, because this guy isn’t even _scary_. His makeup is shitty, white flaking off his cheeks and the black around his eyes already fading into a dull grey. There’s fake blood dribbling out of the corner of his mouth, but in all honesty it looks more like cranberry juice than anything. He’s wearing tight black jeans and a long sleeve black turtleneck with black converse, and there are chains draped over his waist and his shoulders, along with half a pair of handcuffs on his right wrist. He seems to really not care much about the reputation of the house, because he’s practically doubled over, clutching his knees tightly and laughing brash and unashamed.

“Should’ve seen your _face_ , mate,” he laughs, and Harry wants to roll his eyes because he wasn’t _that_ scared, really.

“Niall, what the hell are you – oh, fuck.” Says a girl walking in with bright pink hair, piled high on top of her head. She definitely looks scarier than the other boy – _Niall,_ Harry notes – and Harry would probably be screaming again if he saw her in any other situation, but she's just looking at Niall with a mix between exasperation and fondness and she’s not trying to scare him, so he doesn’t scream. Yet.

“Perrie, ‘m sorry, I couldn’t help myself. You should’ve seen his face,” and he’s still laughing, but Frankenstein’s bride just looks unamused.

“It doesn’t matter, _jesus_. How many times do we have to reiterate the damn rules for your idiotic ass?” She says seriously, before punching his shoulder and walking back from where she came. Niall just shrugs it off and turns back to Harry. Harry quirks an eyebrow.

“This happens often?”

“Sometimes,” Niall confirms, not offering much more. Harry nods once, before glancing around to see if Zayn and Liam are nearby. Unsurprisingly, they’re not.

“Did you, uh, happen to see my friends go anywhere by any chance?” Harry asks and Niall laughs again, more reserved but still loud enough to echo off the thick walls.

“The lovebirds?” He asks, and Harry nods. Niall points his thumb in the direction behind him.

“Went that way, giggling into each other’s shoulders and holding hands like that was their only fuckin’ salvation.” He directs, and Harry groans, because tonight is going to be one of _those_ nights, where he knows his big noise-canceling headphones will be a necessity. Niall pats his shoulder sympathetically, before giving him a shove toward the hallway.

“Good luck with them,” he says, sounding genuinely apologetic and Harry appreciates that.

“Thanks,” he responds over his shoulder, turning and walking into the next room hoping to find Zayn and Liam soon before he ends up scaring young children with his high-pitched screams and soaking his pants through with piss.

==

Twenty minutes, barely dry jeans and too many screams to count later, he has yet to see Zayn or Liam.

Harry’s stumbling through the house, someone popping out around every corner, ranging from small children painted with sinister clown faces to full grown adults wielding whirring chainsaws. Harry screams at every single one, jumping back and tripping over his own feet, quickly hurrying out the room only to be met by another terrifying face with a loud yelp ripped from his throat.

He’s just run into a small woman, with shocking blue hair teased up viciously and hair-sprayed thoroughly, eyes completely black and a bloody ax straight through her stomach. She’s smiling sweetly, bright red lipstick smeared across her lips and a bloody gash on her forehead, and Harry _knows_ it’s not real; he _knows_ she’s wearing contacts, he _knows_ she doesn’t actually have an ax through her stomach but it doesn’t stop him from screaming and tripping away, reaching behind him for a wall so he can steady himself. His arm grabs something solid and steady that feels like a bicep and his immediate thought is _Liam_ so he just turns and jumps right into his arms, wrapping his arms tightly around his neck and winding his legs around his waist.

But then.

There are hands under his thighs, holding him up, and Harry can tell they’re very _small_ hands.

Liam doesn’t have small hands.

And Liam has much broader shoulders.

And Liam is much taller than this.

And Liam doesn’t smell this _amazing_.

Harry tenses, and no, this is definitely not Liam because Harry can hear soft laughter right next to his ear, and it’s wonderful; the softest and prettiest sound Harry has ever heard. _Definitely_ not Liam.

But Harry is still clinging to him, and he should _want_ to let go, he really should, but this person is just so warm and soft and muscular all at once and he smells so good and he’s breathing heavily into Harry’s ear and _okay that’s enough of that_ , he thinks, climbing down quickly and apologizing before he’s even got a foot on the ground.

“Oh my god, I’m so sorry, that was my mistake, I didn’t know, I thought you were –“ and then there’s a delicate finger over his lips and Harry immediately freezes because he’s finally got a look at this boy’s face and even though its covered in makeup, Harry can already tell he is absolutely _breathtaking._

He’s got face paint almost identical to Niall’s earlier, except his is done properly; the white is completely filled in, solid and pale and his eyes are completely blackened circles and he has the same black contacts the blue-haired girl right before had. He’s got a soft smile on his lips and he looks incredibly amused by the whole thing. Harry can’t tell if he wants to suck his dick, or be sucked into a black hole. He hopes both is an option.

“Don’t worry about it, happens all the time.” The boy assures, and he’s got the loveliest and smoothest voice Harry has ever heard. Everything about this boy is soft and smooth and Harry wants to hug him and hold his hand and kiss him and fuck him and everything in between. “Of course, by the scream I heard, I was expecting something a bit more, adolescent.” He says, raising his eyebrow and grinning quietly in amusement. "And, you know. Female," he teases, and Harry fucking _blushes_ , like a damn thirteen year old, which apparently Pretty Boy thought he was, and turns his face to the floor, biting his lip harshly to hold back the smile that’s threatening to split his face in two.

“Thanks for not, you know, dropping me.” He says quietly, and the boy laughs, loud and wonderful, head thrown back and exposing his neck and Harry wants to latch on and give him lovebites to last for days.

“Wouldn’t dream of it, Curly,” he says, ruffling Harry’s hair. Harry stops himself from blushing this time, but he can’t stop the smile from creeping onto his lips.

“’m Harry,” he says, hoping he’s not being too abrupt or obvious but he needs to know this boy’s name _right this second_.

“Louis,” he says, and Harry wants to say it over and over again, just to hear how it sounds on his own tongue. He takes the hand Louis offers, and Harry’s hand absolutely _engulfs_ Louis’, and it’s unbelievably erratic and Harry needs to get the hell out of here before his pants get noticeably tight and he embarrasses himself even further.

And as if on cue, there’s an arm around his neck and he’s in a headlock, Zayn right by his ear laughing loudly.

“Mate!” he yells, straight into Harry’s ear, “we were looking all over! Can’t believe you got lost in the first thirty seconds,” he says, ruffling up Harry’s hair. Harry rolls his eyes because Zayn is an asshole, leaving Harry alone to fend for himself while he galavanted off with Liam to some dark hallway or abandoned closet or maybe the woods – who fucking knows what they do anymore – to fuck or something equally as nauseating, like coo at each other adoringly and play with each other’s fingers. Harry sees it happen almost every night.

He turns to ask Louis where the exit is, because his best friends are annoying dickheads and he is _so_ ready to leave, but Louis is gone. He tries not to be too disappointed, because Harry knows Louis technically can’t break character but he figures this was a special circumstance, considering the conditions. He sighs and turns back to Liam.

“Do you know where the exit is?” He asks, Liam looks around a bit before nodding and taking Harry’s hand, clutching Zayn’s tightly in his other.

Once they’re successfully out, Harry only flinching slightly but still screaming at the people popping out at them, Liam locates the car and slides into the driver’s seat. Harry shoves Zayn into the back before settling in the passenger seat. Zayn groans but he relents, slumping into the backseat.

“So?” he asks expectantly, and Harry knows Zayn was right, it wasn’t absolutely atrocious. He met possibly the hottest boy in the whole country, maybe even the world, but he’ll be damned if he actually let’s Zayn _know_ that, so he just shrugs.

“You’re both assholes.” He concludes, and he can feel Zayn’s glare through the back of his head. “And I still hate Halloween,” he says, and Zayn and Liam groan. Harry feels smugger than he should.

==

It’s seven thirty-two on Thursday night. Harry is seated on the old and lumpy couch, thinking absently how it must’ve been comfortable at one point, or else they definitely wouldn’t have bought it, with the same captivating voice and lovely laugh and pretty body occupying the forefront of his mind since Tuesday.

And he’s seriously got a problem, because he knows nothing about this boy beyond his first name and the fact that he works at a haunted house, but he wants to know more. And it’s crazy, absolutely _ludicrous_ because they had a barely minute-long meeting that was initiated when Harry embarrassingly _jumped into his arms_. He shouldn’t want to know this boy, he shouldn’t want anything from a _practical stranger_ , but he does. And he can’t get those dainty hands and that lovely, high laughter out of his mind.

There’s a clear solution here. Really.

“Liam! Zayn!” He shouts, calling out for them. They don’t respond, which is not at all shocking, but inconvenient all the same. He sighs, and heaves himself onto his feet, banging on Zayn and Liam’s door, praying to whatever god he doesn’t believe in that they’re not fucking. When they open up the door they only look mildly upset and sleep rumpled, so he doesn’t think he interrupted anything too scarring.

Harry knows asking what he’s about to ask is equivalent to admitting defeat, but he can’t bring himself to care because he just needs to see Louis and scratch this dumb itch he’s left behind.

“Haunted house?” He asks hopefully. Zayn raises a skeptical eyebrow, but Liam smiles brightly and cheers, then they both nod, going back into their room to change. It feels more like triumph than defeat.

==

Harry really doesn’t know what his plan of action is; he knows this is Louis’ job, and he knows he’ll most likely not be able to talk to him, or even recognize him for that matter. But he thinks maybe if he can just _see_ Louis, he’ll feel a bit better. Maybe.

They enter the house, an even smaller line than Tuesday, and there’s Niall, just like last time, popping out to scare them. And even though Niall is absolutely shit at this, Harry still yelps a bit and jumps back. Niall laughs, not as hard as last time but still relatively loud.

“You’re the kid from Tuesday!” He shouts, and Harry rolls his eyes and nods, because his reputation will always be _that lame guy who screams like a six year old._

“You can call me Harry.” He says, and Niall nods.

“’m Niall.”

Zayn and Liam pull Harry around the corner and people that Harry vaguely recognizes from Tuesday are popping out at them but none are who he’s here for, so he just screams at everyone he sees and clings to Liam, stumbling through the whole house.

Twenty minutes have gone by and they still haven’t run into Louis and Harry is thinking maybe he doesn’t work tonight when the blue haired girl pops out, making him scream – as always – and grip Liam’s arm tight. Liam pats Harry’s shoulder reassuringly, guiding him past with a hand around his waist.

Harry knows Louis is next, he _knows_ it’s coming – damnit, he knows it’s coming _every_ _time_ – but he still screams and jumps when Louis pops out, wearing the same thing as on Tuesday and still looking absolutely amazing.

He’s glaring menacingly, hard and dark and the others all do this too but Louis is just so _good_ at it that Harry is getting chills and Louis’ not even trying to but he looks so fucking _hot_ and none of it is fair.

Recognition flashes over Louis’ features and then he’s smiling brightly, shouting “Harry!” excitedly. Harry’s smile is blinding, because he didn’t know if Louis would even remember him and here he is, looking thrilled to see him and Harry is over the moon.

“Back so soon?” Louis asks, and Harry just blushes and ducks his head, nodding slightly. Louis turns him into a fucking prepubescent teen who can’t even form words when their crush is around, _honestly,_ it’s pathetic. Harry always has control of these situations, _he’s_ the one always getting people flustered, and he needs to shake this dumb feeling he gets from Louis before he turns into a flurried giggling mess.

“Why’s that?” Louis asks, cocking his head to the side and Harry would think he’s genuinely curious if there wasn’t a small, cocky smirk playing at his lips. And _oh_ , they’re playing this game now. Harry can totally play this game. Harry is a _pro_ at this game. He just hopes he remembers how to play it around Louis.

“Liam wanted to come,” Harry lies easily, and Louis raises his eyebrows.

“ _Liam_ did? _Really_?” He asks, and he looks like he’s about to turn to Liam to confirm this, so Harry reaches out and grabs his bicep, pulling him back so their chests are flush against one another. Louis gasps at the sudden proximity and _yes_ , Harry _definitely_ remembers how to play.

“Mhm,” He hums, leaning down to brush his lips against the shell of Louis’ ear. He can feel Louis shiver against him, and his lips tilt up in response. “Thinks you’re awful fit. Wanted to see you again, I reckon,” he says roughly, running his hand down Louis’ side, resting it lowly on his back momentarily before pulling back and stepping away quickly. Louis looks dazed and flustered, Harry wearing a small self-satisfied grin.

“You sure it was Liam?” Louis asks eventually, voice an octave higher than normal, still recovering from the sudden contact. Harry just shrugs cryptically, turning to grab Liam by the wrist, who was too engrossed in smiling appallingly sweet at Zayn and giggling to notice anything even happened. Disgustingly oblivious, he tugs Liam behind him and shouts “see you later!” over his shoulder, rushing out of the house.

He can’t decide if that was helpful or detrimental.

==

When he wakes up at three in the morning, panting in a cold sweat, cock hard and leaking on his stomach with thick biceps and strong thighs and a high voice in his ears and behind his eyelids, he’s decided it was definitely detrimental.

==

It’s Friday night and it is Zayn and Liam’s date night, just like every Friday where they pick a new hole in the wall diner that probably has black mold but they still have the time of their lives because when they return they’re locked up in their room, fucking like bunnies. Harry’s learned that headphones are his best friend on Fridays.

But it’s _Friday_. And he’s alone with his sad pink tea mug and Titanic playing quietly on the TV. He’s seen it more times than he can count, so he starts to scroll through his phone, trying to think of something, anything to do.

There is one thought that comes to mind, and it sticks, just nagging him over and over again until he finally can’t take it and he’s up and out the door as Leo is sinking to the bottom of the ocean.

He gets there at almost eight o’clock, and it’s absolutely _mobbed._ The line goes all the way down the driveway and loops around the sidewalk. Harry considers leaving, heading home and just forgetting it because it’s dumb anyway, Louis won’t want to see him, and he’s probably super busy.

But he really doesn’t care much if Louis wants to see him, because he just needs to see Louis.

He’s been in line for about thirty minutes when he’s finally nearing the door, and for some reason he really can’t pinpoint, he’s _nervous_. It’s not that he’s scared of the house, no, honestly, he thinks he’ll probably only scream at half the people this time. They all have hard expressions and creepy contact lenses, but Harry can always see the slight quirk of their lips and the mirth shining in their eyes, really loving what they’re doing, so they’re not very intimidating. And while they always get an initial reaction out of Harry, he doesn’t offer much more than that because he’s _not scared_.

Once he’s inside he’s immediately boo!-ed by Niall and he barely even flinches because Niall is so God awful at this.

“Hey Niall,” he says, and Niall looks up, shocked, and then he’s looking around frantically and shaking his head, waving his hands around in front of him. Harry is very confused.

“What?” He asks and Niall just shakes his head again. He walks to Harry and leans into his ear, whispering, “boss’ll sack us if we don’t stop breaking character. ‘m’sorry,” he says, and Harry knows he’s being sincere but it doesn’t stop him from being disappointed and he spins around and leaves the house without taking single a step further inside, because what’s the point anymore?

He’s walking around the house, cutting through the backyard because the only parking spot he could find was around the back because, as previously mentioned, the place is fucking _mobbed_. He’s attempting to make out shapes and direction because there are no lights on and the night is soaked in black, when he walks straight into someone. Harry stumbles back, shocked and embarrassed and ready to apologize.

“God, I’m so sorry, it’s so dark –“

“Harry?” The boy asks, turning around quickly and Harry honestly doesn’t recognize whoever this is in front of him, and he feels horrible.

“I’m sorry, I don’t,” he’s stuttering, trying to figure out the words to say without sounding like an inconsiderate asshole, and then a light blinks on from the lamppost ahead of them and just like that, he knows.

He’s never seen Louis without his makeup, but he could still recognize those eyelashes and luscious hair and defined cheekbones and jawline anywhere.

But right now all he can notice is _blue_. Louis’ eyes are bright and shining, twinkling from the small and dingy light standing tall above them, appearing nearly translucent. They’re the most beautiful things Harry’s ever seen, and if Harry was a poet he’d probably be writing sonnets about the way the light catches just right on his irises.

“Hi,” he says on a sigh, sounding a lot more breathless than he’s intended but Louis is just absolutely breathtaking and Harry doesn’t know if he’ll ever catch his breath again.

“Hi,” Louis echoes, looking up at him with his bottom lip between his teeth, fighting back a smile. Harry imagines he must look the same.

“Fancy seeing you here,” he says, quietly, afraid raising his voice much above a whisper would ruin the thick intimacy that has settled between them.

“It is indeed,” Louis agrees, and then they just stand there, staring at each other with words unspoken hanging in the air, but not creating tension, just silent softness and unshed phrases floating in the autumn breeze. It feels much too intimate considering the circumstances, but it also feels right and Harry doesn’t mind it as long as Louis doesn’t.

Louis coughs into his fist and the moment shatters, but Harry doesn’t mind either way, because Louis is still right in from of him and looking as lovely and soft as ever. Harry wouldn’t mind watching him for the rest of his life and if that’s not a terrifying thought then he doesn’t know what is.

“Why’re you out here?” Harry asks, and Louis just shrugs.

“Could be asking you the same thing, Curly.” He retorts, and. Touché.

“I asked you first.”

“I asked you second.”

“That doesn’t even make sense,” Harry says, shaking his head. “First comes _first,_ that’s literally –“

“First is the worst, second is the best!” Louis squeals, and then there’s momentary silence.

“Did you _seriously_ just fucking say that?” Harry asks, and he’s trying his best to be appalled, he really is, but it’s incredibly hard when there’s a gorgeous boy in front of him beaming like he’s just told the greatest joke in history.

“Try living with four younger sisters, then we’ll talk.” Louis says, still grinning and Harry figures that’s a valid point, so he lets it go, but he assures Louis he won’t be that lucky next time. Louis just smiles widely, laughing softly and knocking Harry gently with his shoulder, and Harry really doesn’t want to be melodramatic, but he swears there were actual sparks flickering between where they touched.

He’s about to reiterate the question that was never answered, when the door flings open and there’s the blue-haired ax girl, looking frantic and worried before her eyes settle on Louis and she’s quickly turned livid.

“Fucking _hell_ , Louis, you can’t just take a break whenever you – oh god. Oh _god_ ,” she says, grabbing his arm fiercely. “You don’t have your makeup on, what the _fuck_ ,” she groans, and then she’s tugging him harshly through the threshold, Louis yelling “bye, Harry!” over his shoulder and leaving Harry behind the old house, light flickering warily above him before ultimately shutting off, tenting him in complete darkness and silence. He sighs loudly, gives one last glance at the door, and walks back to his car, unable to keep the grin off his face, crunching leaves beneath his soles and kicking small pebbles, watching them dribble swiftly down the road. He’s still smiling when he falls asleep to thoughts of unmatchable charm and daylight eyes.

==

The weekend passes in a blur of oranges and reds (and blues, of course, swirling around the nooks of his mind in an almost constant flurry), leaves falling from the trees, blanketing the ground thickly and leaving the branches bare and sickly. Liam and Zayn go on walks in the park nearly every afternoon, when the sun starts to get low in the sky and it’s resting just atop the horizon, color bleeding through the sky matching the fallen leaves. Harry can’t help but feel lonely, and his thoughts always come full circle back to Louis.

==

It’s Monday night and Harry has no idea what the hell he’s doing.

He’s one hundred percent sure he looks like an absolute stalker, showing up for the fourth time in less than a week. He can’t bring himself to care very much, though, when Louis has not left his mind for more than thirty seconds since Tuesday night. Harry can feel himself slowly descending into madness, soft hair and blue _blue blue_ irises appearing behind his eyelids whenever he blinks. He just _needs_ to see Louis again, and this feeling will pass. He’s sure of it.

Halloween is in five days but the house is still practically deserted, save a teenage couple walking through the threshold while giggling into each other’s shoulders. Harry feels like everyone has someone except him.

He walks through the door after them and Niall is chatting away with the guy, who’s got his arm wrapped around the girl’s shoulder and they’re all laughing. None of it is shocking, considering all Niall ever does is laugh and Harry has no idea how he even got this job, or why they chose him of all people to deliver the first scare.

He goes straight past Niall, knowing that showing up four times in six days looks incredibly suspicious and he’d rather not be questioned on it, because he himself doesn’t even know what he’s doing.

Harry makes it through the house, and there’s ax-girl again, and Harry barely even flinches because he knows it’s coming, and she just looks disappointed by his lack of reaction before she inevitably recognizes him and turns smug. She looks like she’s about to say something, but Harry pushes past her and turns the next corner before she can say whatever she was going to say. Louis walks out and he’s smiling, same makeup as always covering his skin but no contacts this time and he looks so small and pretty and lovely and Harry just wants to swoop in and kiss him right there.

Thankfully, before he can do anything stupid and spontaneous, Louis steps back slightly with an amused grin.

“Look who’s back,” he says smugly, looking Harry up and down and this is such a contrast from their soft and intimate moment from Friday but it’s just as good, because it’s Louis and he’s really just amazing in any context.

“I just really like haunted houses.” Harry defends, but he’s smiling too big and he knows they both know that he’s lying straight through his teeth.

“Do you now?” Louis asks, tilting his head. Harry just shrugs.

“Maybe I just like the fit workers, but don’t tell.” Harry whispers, lowering his voice and Louis is trying to look indifferent but Harry can see the blacks of his pupils expanding and his breaths coming quicker.

“Yeah, Niall is quite the looker, innit?” and now they’re toe to toe, and Harry has no idea when that happened but he is not complaining in the slightest.

“That he is,” Harry agrees, before leaning down to Louis’ ear, breathing hot and heavy into it. “But Niall doesn’t have this,” he says lowly, snaking an arm around Louis’ waist and grabbing his bum cheek, squeezing roughly. Louis inhales sharply, knees almost buckling but he catches himself, and putting both hands on Harry’s chest and ducking his head against Harry’s collarbone, biting softly. Harry gasps and moves his other hand to cup to other cheek, and then he’s squeezing both and pulling their hips flush against each other. They both shiver at the contact, breathing heavily into each other’s skin and then Louis is pushing him away abruptly.

“Fuck, Harry,” he says, and he looks unbearably flustered, eyes huge and mouth gaping and Harry feels a bit too smug because _he_ did that to him, but he’s just the same as Louis because he’s flushed and straining painfully against his jeans.

“Get out of here. You’re gonna get me fired,” Louis says, shooing Harry away but he still has that soft smile spread over his features. Harry smiles back, and they’re both hard in their jeans but they’re still warm and fond with each other and if Harry didn’t know he was completely and utterly fucked before, then he definitely knows now. He gives Louis a small wave before making his way out of the house, barely even registering any of the attempts to get him to scare.

==

When he walks in that night, Zayn and Liam are sitting on the couch staring at him, and they bear a striking resemblance to his parents when he’d come home late at night after curfew. Harry sighs, because he’s been given this talk many times before, from both his actual parents and from Zayn and Liam.

“Hello Harry,” Liam greets calmly, hands clasped over his knee where his legs are crossed, Zayn fitted next to him with an arm on the back of the couch around Liam.

“You guys do know you’re not _actually_ my parents, right?” Harry asks as he toes off his boots. Liam laughs softly and Zayn snorts unattractively.

“Where were you?” Liam presses, as if Harry never even spoke. Harry sighs exasperatedly, because he knows there’s _no_ way he’s getting out of this. He goes into the kitchen and grabs a bottle of water, chugging half of it quickly before taking a seat on the worn down chair next to the sofa.

“Haunted house,” he replies honestly, because it’s really not worth his time to even try lying to either of them. Liam just hums in acknowledgement.

“And why is that?”

“Fucking _hell,_ Liam you _know_ why,” Harry snaps, turning to the TV because he does not need this interrogation right now, and he’d really just like to go to bed.

Zayn snorts again.

“We’re just looking out for you. You missed work today,” Zayn explains, and fuck, _fuck_ , how did he forget _work_? Harry groans and rubs his hands down his face, knowing exactly what this means.

“I forgot,” he mumbles.

“Yeah, I know.” Zayn scoffs, “boss isn’t mad, though. Told her you were sick and lost your voice so you couldn’t call in.” And Harry has never been more grateful to be best friends with Zayn than at that moment. “But you’re scheduled every night this week, mate. You actually gotta go, rent is due soon.” Zayn tells him, and Harry nods. He knows he needs to pull his weight around here and he knows he definitely can’t miss work again because money is tight, so he tries his best to ignore the sinking of his stomach telling him he might never see Louis again, if the haunted house closes on Friday before Harry even has a chance to get his number. And even though Harry knows barely anything about the boy, he’s nowhere near ready to let him go.

“Okay,” he says quietly, getting up and offering them a timid _goodnight_ before going straight up the stairs, curling into his bed and forgoing his homework, falling asleep with blue taunting him through his eyelids.

==

The week passes in a blur of classes and coffee and work; waking up at eight for his morning classes, stopping for a large coffee on the way that only lasts for about an hour and then he’s crashing, more tired than he started out. Then he’s finally arriving back at the flat at two, taking a three hour nap haunted with sapphire eyes until Zayn shakes him awake and tells him it’s time for work. He crawls out of bed without changing, slips on his boots and follows Zayn out the door and walks by his side to the library, stopping for another coffee even though Harry has learned coffee never does him any good. Then he works a five hour shift until the library closes, trudging back home with Zayn by his side again and dropping onto his bed right when he gets back to the flat, pulling out his laptop and working on his homework until the early hours of morning, when he finally gives in to the exhaustion and falls asleep, slumped over his laptop, charming smiles and lovely voices swirling in his head. And repeat.

And all week, Louis is a constant presence in his mind. He wonders what Louis is doing, how the haunted house is, what Louis does during his days. He wonders if Louis thinks about him, wonders where he is, why he stopped coming around. He just wants to walk into the house and kiss Louis up against the dusty walls, until they’re both out of breath and flushed and smiling so wide they have to stop. He wants to get his number and ask him on countless dates, he wants to kiss him and fuck him until he’s a whimpering mess beneath him and hold his hand and kiss him and kiss him and cuddle against his chest as they fall asleep at night and kiss him and _kiss him_ _and kiss him._

He honestly doesn’t know how he functions at all, most of the time zoned out and having to be brought back into consciousness by Zayn smacking him upside the head.

So when Friday comes, it’s Halloween, and it’s inevitable that he’s even more unfocused than usual, because this is it. This is the last day the haunted house is open, the last day he’ll know where Louis is, the last chance he’ll have to see him.

It’s Friday so Zayn doesn’t have work because it’s _date night with Liam_ , of course. Harry doesn’t even know why the library is open on Halloween; _no one_ will come in, and he genuinely wonders if sneaking out for a few minutes and running over to the haunted house is an option. But he knows it’ll be hopelessly mobbed, so even if he can find a way to get out of this dumb fucking shift he still wouldn’t be able to speak to Louis.

But he’ll be damned if he’s not going to try.

After an hour of sitting in the counter of the barren library, the only worker there, flipping through an old book someone left sitting on one of the tables but not at all reading it, because he can’t stop thinking of Louis and how this is his last chance and how he absolutely _can’t_ let Louis slip through his fingers because even if they barely know each other he _knows_ there something special between them, something more than sexual tension and he wants to try for it. He _needs_ to.

He calls Zayn mid-panic, pacing rapidly around the shelves of the library. Zayn picks up on the third ring, muttering a “’Lo?” into the speaker and Harry just blurts it out because he needs to leave _right this second_.

“Take my shift.”

“No.”

“ _Please_.”

“ _No_ , Harry,” Zayn says sternly, and Harry groans and runs his hand through his hair relentlessly because he’s never been so frustrated in his damn life.

“Zayn,” Harry whines, “please. I need to go.” He says, and he can tell the desperation is laying on thickly because he hears a muffled conversation on the other end with hushed and concerned tones and then Zayn’s back on the line, saying “fine,” and Harry’s never thanked someone so excessively in his life.

There’s not going to be anyone coming in there anytime soon and Zayn said he was nearby, and he’d be there _very soon_ , so Harry’s out the door and on his way to the haunted house before he even hangs up the phone.

==

He finally makes it there, panting and out of breath because he practically sprinted the entire way, half an attempt to expel his nerves through physical exertion and half just the sheer need to be there and with Louis as soon as humanly possible.

Nevertheless he’s there, hunched over and clutching his knees when he takes his place at the end of the line. It’s twice as long as it was last Friday, just as he suspected, but he’s going to wait as long as it fucking takes because Louis is well worth it.

After an hour of wringing his hands nervously and shuffling forward in line slowly but surely, he’s there at the doorway. He enters with a large cluster of people, and there’s Niall, and he’s actually relatively scary this time so Harry flinches and shouts quietly. He shoves his way to the front of the group and he knows Niall recognizes him, because he shoots him a stern glare which clearly says _don’t fucking talk to me I’m working,_ but Harry was never good at reading people so he just grabs Niall by the arm and drags him into the corner. Niall tries to fight him off but Harry sends him a pleading look so Niall relents and follows.

“Harry, _Jesus Christ_ you’re my friend but you can’t do this, I’m gonna get fired –“

“This is the last day of the haunted house,” Harry points out, but Niall doesn’t take notice and he just rambles on.

“ –and I need this job to,” he cuts himself off, finally processing what Harry said. “Oh. Yeah, it is, isn’t it?” He asks, and suddenly Stern Niall is gone and Jubilant Cheerful Niall that Harry knows and loves has returned. “Okay, I’ll talk to you. Why are you always here, anyway?”

Harry doesn’t even hesitate before he answers with “Louis,” and he _really_ doesn’t care, because he just needs to find Louis, and he figures Niall might know him since they work at the same place, and he could possibly know if Louis is at his post as usual.

Niall is just laughing though, which is actually very unhelpful.

“Oh my god,” Niall almost shouts, still laughing loudly. “Oh man, it’s _you_! How did I not put that together?” he asks, and he sounds a lot like he’s talking more to himself than to Harry. Harry is confused though, so he asks the only question he can think of right now.

“What?”

“Oh my _god_ , Harry, you don’t even _know_ ,” Niall expresses, still laughing quietly under his breath. “He hasn’t shut the _fuck up_ about you for the past two weeks. And this week – god, where the fuck have you _been_? – he’s been a damn miserable mess. I almost killed him too many times, honestly.”

Harry’s mind is whirring with information, and it’s all just _Louis missed him_ and it’s exactly what he needed to hear, and he doesn’t even know how to respond so he just takes the only question he actually heard. “I work. I have work,” He explains, and Niall nods understandingly.

“Right, well. Explain that to Louis. He thinks you hate him or something, I don’t fucking know, I don’t even listen to him half the time.”

Harry thinks that he’s definitely heard enough, and he just really _really_ needs to see Louis. Right now. Yesterday. Four days ago.

“I’m gonna,” he says, gesturing toward the corridor, and Niall nods quickly and gives him a shove.

“Get it!” he shouts, and Harry laughs a bit before stumbling down the halls in search of blue eyes and softly freckled cheeks.

==

It takes him a bit more than twenty minutes to get there this time, with the overwhelming amount of people packed into the house, but he finally reaches blue-haired-ax-girl, and she’s popping out and Harry only flinches slightly and he’s proud of the progress he’s made, truly. But he knows Louis comes next, and he is suddenly very nervous because he didn’t even make a _plan_. He doesn’t know what he’s doing, and he doesn’t have time to come up with anything because there’s Louis, in all his face-painted glory, standing in front of him and looking beautiful even with fake blood splattered across his cheeks and around the edges of his lips. He’s trying to look intimidating, he really is, with a little snarl on his lips and the dark contacts in his eyes but he’s still so _little_ and Harry really just wants to kiss him.

So he does.

He steps through the crowd quickly and when he reaches Louis, immediately leans down and cups Louis’ jaw in his hand, tilting up his chin and connecting their lips. He doesn’t want to hyperbolize, but he thinks Louis’ lips were genuinely _made_ for his with the way they mold together seamlessly, moving against each other flawlessly smooth and it’s definitely the best first kiss Harry has had in his entire life.

It only takes a few seconds before Louis is kissing back, winding his arms tight around Harry’s neck and tugging him down even more, so he can slip his tongue into Harry’s mouth and kiss him hard and strong. Harry groans against his lips because Louis is _perfect_ , and he’s never felt so electric in his life, and they’re snogging in the middle of a packed haunted house and Harry is definitely getting smeared with face-paint but he couldn’t care any less, because Louis is solid and warm right in front of him, kissing him fiercely and Harry doesn’t want to change a thing. A few people gasp, shocked, but either Louis doesn’t hear them or just doesn’t even care, because he just keeps _kissing_ him and Harry can’t breathe, he is seriously running out of breath, but he would rather die of asphyxiation than break this kiss.

Louis is the one to pull back in the end, lips swollen and _very_ pink, face-paint smeared and he looks so lovely and already halfway to wrecked, hair mussed and shirt rucked up so a tan sliver of hip is exposed. Harry’s hands are already resting on Louis’ hips, so he strokes the skin gently with his thumb, Louis shivering against the touch. Harry grips his hips tightly before leaning back down, nipping at the skin just beneath his ear while Louis bites his collarbone and yeah, maybe he doesn't hate Halloween so much after all.

**Author's Note:**

> comments and kudos are very much appreciated & you can follow me on tumblr at zuoaim.tumblr.com :)


End file.
